All posts by Tez

The Fat Barmaid

                                         

The Fat Barmaid, a nickname coined by one of my colleagues for our then director of quality and vindictive personal vendettas for the educational institute in which I worked, was out to get me… and a rehearsal for a forthcoming higher education inspection was the perfect place to start.

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PINEAPPLE AND EGGS

One day I went into the art staff room – the place where all the hippies gather to mull over their latest piece of indecipherable nonsense – where I was working and while I was waiting for a colleague who was on the telephone, I picked up a book and started flicking through the pages. Imagine my disgust when I came across what I thought was a “selfie” published without my permission, my horrified, contorted face grimacing in disgust at having come across a piece of modern art.

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THE CAMERA CAVALIER

               My mate, Ken, can be… I’m sorry, there’s no other way of putting it, a liability. On a whim he will suddenly disappear and not return unless accompanied by the police, an irate shopkeeper or some woman belting him around the head with her shoe. I’ve often wondered where Christian Louboutin got the idea for his red soled shoes from, well now I know, it was from some woman staining her shoe with Ken’s blood. Which is why, frankly, I’m worried.

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SORRY I’M LATE, BUT…

During my years working in education I heard more than my fair share of pathetic excuses for students being late or not turning up for lectures. Like the girl who texted in one morning half an hour after the session started to say “sorry I’m late, but I’m waiting for the dog to have a shit in the garden”. Or another who, only half-dressed and sweating like she’d just run the London marathon (either that or she’d been having shenanigans with her boyfriend for breakfast), burst into the room one day just before lunch and blurted breathlessly, “Sorry I’m late – I thought I was in already”.

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LET THERE BE MUSIC

LET THERE BE MUSIC

After years of being asked “which was the worst group you ever taught?” Well, here goes.

As we were walking towards reception to meet the External Vilifier, sorry, Verifier, the examiner sent into the college by the awarding body to verify students’ marks near the end of the year, the boss looked at me with ashen face. “What are you going to say to him?” she asked, clearly not wanting to hear the answer in the mistaken belief that what she didn’t know about she couldn’t be blamed for.

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